


Arcana Imperii

by circlemarriesline



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, coming out meets potential government conspiracy, unknown disease outbreak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circlemarriesline/pseuds/circlemarriesline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Waverly navigates coming out to Wynonna, Nicole's role in investigating a bizarre illness in Purgatory leads Team Earp to decide to tell her the truth about Black Badge and the Earp curse. Soon, the public and private lives of each member of the squad will be relevant to uncovering the truth. Set post-1x11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orior Pestis

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, once you get fic fever, it's tough to quit. Thanks for all the props for my first fic, Age Quod Agis. It's a helpful read to get an idea of what kind of relationship vibes I'm going for with Waverly and Nicole. Plus it's smut city, so. Up to you.
> 
> As always, let me know if you spot any glaring errors/typos/that sort of thing.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> "What is the one most important thing our society needs?"  
> "That would be harsher penalties for parole violators, Stan."  
> [crowd is silent]  
> "And more WayHaught fic!"  
> [crowd goes wild]

———

The past weeks had altered the very foundation of Waverly’s life. 

Willa, the eldest Earp sister and the presumptive heir of their generation, had returned with explosive results, literally and figuratively, and she and Wynonna were rekindling their sibling bond while Waverly watched from the wings. Seeing them relive their childhood escapades from when she was still in diapers stoked envy deep within her. She tried to remind herself that she only had a handful of scattered memories of Willa from her childhood, and that Willa and Wynonna actually knew each other. They had shared memories she wasn’t privy to. Their history was spread around the house: competing heights scratched into doorframe trim, paintings and games stored away in shoeboxes under beds, and grief in the furniture on which they sat, trying to reconcile their traumatic personal truths with the conflicting reality that Willa was alive. Alive and very much an Earp, by the way, judging by her aptitude for firearms and stomach for liquor. Waverly couldn’t help feeling like an outsider in her own home. 

The shootout still weighed heavily on her mind. Putting down Revenants was one thing, but commando shitheads coming for them on their own land seemed significantly more fucked up than your run-of-the-mill demon. Waverly knew this was a whole new animal on the horizon. This wasn’t about Willa or the curse. Was it Black Badge? A competing agency? Some vengeful haters? No matter who they were, one thing was abundantly clear. _They were after Dolls._

The angry scab under Waverly’s right arm was beginning to come away to reveal pink, imperfect scar tissue that had repaired the bullet’s tear. She was digging up intelligence on Black Badge, which was hard to come by, even for her; Wynonna and Dolls were on the hunt for whomever had ordered the Seven Deadly Dicks (Wynonna’s moniker) to wipe them out. 

Nicole had been working with Sheriff Nedley and the Ghost River County detachment of the Ministry of Health after a handful of suspected prescription drug-related incidents at the local high school. For the first time in weeks, Waverly saw Nicole looking confident at work. 

She knew Wynonna had thrown her off the day before the abduction with some stupid remark about being a “rookie flatfoot.” Waverly knew it had bothered her because Nicole had actually brought it up.  
“Does she really think I’m just some green recruit,” she’d wondered, after re-hashing some cases she’d helped Black Badge with. “Why am I always the last to know what’s going on? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love doing grunt work, and I’m happy to keep running plates, but I’d be a lot more help if they would let me in on what they’re doing.” She was earnest. “They can trust me. So can you.”

Waverly knew Wynonna and Dolls had been considering bringing Nicole in on their operation - they needed as many allies as they could get - but any plans they had fell apart after the abduction.  
“If she’s doing your dirty work, she has to know what it’s for. She’s already been roped into our bullshit once,” Waverly had informed Wynonna over drinks the night before Willa came back.  
“Look, Waves,” Wynonna said through the sting of whiskey, “I don’t know why you care so much, but she can handle herself fine without knowing all our secrets.”  
_I want her to know our secrets._ “Letting her in will only help us going forward. She’s on our side.”  
Wynonna reluctantly agreed, nodding loosely. “Fair play, kid.”  
“Ew, don’t call me ‘kid’, like, ever.” Waverly swatted at the half-empty bottle in Wynonna’s hand. “Give me that.”

The drug cases were a strange brew from the beginning. Ten days ago, the news first reported the hospitalisation of seventeen-year-old Jade, a classic overachiever: honour roll every year, star hockey player, won the chemistry award last year, and helped write the school’s original drama production. Her parents were initially concerned that she wasn’t sleeping after they found her at her desk at 5am on a Saturday, bright-eyed, working on a biology report that wasn’t due for weeks. The following Tuesday, her sheer productivity at all hours of the day and night pushed her parents to seek information about Adderall abuse in teens. Jade had adamantly denied using any drugs. Teachers at school expressed concern over her total mania on Wednesday, and the school contacted the family that evening. On Thursday, Jade arrived at school at 8:15am with no new symptoms, but hadn’t slept a full night, by her parents’ estimation, since at least Saturday. By 10am, her pupils had taken on an oval shape and her brown irises were tinged with orange. At lunch, her friends became concerned that her short-term memory was lapsing. They urged her to see the nurse, but she refused. By 2pm, Jade had missed her final class and was found pacing the front of the school with no memory of where she was or how she got there. She could not work her cellphone to call her parents. Her cognitive decline was unprecedented. She was admitted to Ghost River County General Hospital that evening. She did not recognise her parents and could not remember her name. On Friday, she had lost all identity markers and language skills, but remained awake. She was transferred to Calgary Children’s for intensive care. 

The second case, a fourteen-year-old boy, arose on the day of Jade’s symptom escalation. That same Thursday, Austin complained to his mom that he couldn’t sleep. She had worried that the transition to high school would take a toll on him, but he had proven her wrong. He was well-rounded and well-liked, played trumpet in the jazz band, and was elected to the student council by his peers. He had a small but devoted friend group, and they had the regional high score in an online game. Austin’s mother followed up with him the next day to see if he had slept, and he had brushed her off. His friends had come over to play video games on Friday evening and he had trouble working the controller. Saturday morning, his father noticed his pupils had changed shape, and Austin had to be reminded of his brother’s name. He was hospitalised that afternoon. He displayed slower symptom progression than the first case, but by the following morning he had lost his language and coordination, though still had some recognition of family for a few hours until that, too, fell away. Tests found no autoimmune, viral, parasitic, or bacterial markers. His toxicology report came back clean. His hormone levels were slightly unusual but not significantly divergent from the normal range of a teen boy. He remained in the same state as Jade, conscious but with the awareness and capability of a newborn.

The investigation kicked into high gear the week after Austin deteriorated. Another case, this time unrelated to the high school, emerged out of the affluent south side of town. A workaholic lawyer and father of three, Carlos Ruiz, fell ill with the same symptoms. On Tuesday, he got into his car to go to work and couldn’t remember how to drive it, and his eyes looked brassy. His wife reported no unusual behaviour leading up to the incident, but confirmed that he normally functioned with little sleep and traveled regularly. Ruiz could not recall significant life events within twenty-four hours, at which point he was admitted to Ghost River County General. By Wednesday night, he did not recognise his family. On Thursday morning, he was left with no identity markers at all. Another otherwise healthy adult turned into an infant with no sense of social convention, language, or motor skills.

Doctors were baffled. They pressed the task force for information about the availability of various drugs in town and the rates of use by teens. Nicole threw herself into the investigation. Interviews, evidence, and deciphering the puzzle pieces were what she loved most about her job. The interdepartmental partnership had boosted Nicole’s confidence in a big way: she could re-assign a few of her stagnating, lingering cases and instead work regular hours out of the task force headquarters, which had been set up at the station. Waverly couldn’t help but admire how committed she was to giving these families answers. 

For Waverly, things were starting to feel more calm. Aside from the sister who returned from the grave and the shits who tried to kill them all, it seemed like their lives were returning to business as usual - medium danger rather than extreme. 

———

A soft light was peeking through the curtains hanging in front of the massive east-facing window. In the distance, dozens of tiny birds circled and danced as a singular entity above the frozen plain, pushed left and right with every gust of wind. Closer, faint barks, engine rumbles, and murmurs of Sunday morning greetings filtered up from the street below. Nicole and Waverly had been snoozing comfortably all morning in Nicole’s bed, Nicole on her side with an outstretched hand hanging over the side of the bed, and Waverly resembling a starfish on her back with her arms over her head. The cat had paced over them once or twice, but she left their warm nest in favour of Waverly’s right boot - her favourite spot to sit while she waited for breakfast. 

Today was the first Sunday of their relationship that neither Nicole nor Waverly had to get up to work. It was Nicole’s day off and Waverly had informed Wynonna that she was “spending the night at Nicole’s.”  
Wynonna had examined her for a moment and accepted the statement without rebuttal, but with a shrug and a unconcerned “okay.”  
_Do I have to spell it out for you?_ Waverly had made a mental note to try again with the whole coming out thing, potentially without first being shot.

They had planned for this day all week. Their phones were on silent. They made no plans with anyone for almost the full twenty-four hour period. There was food to eat. It was going to be the two of them under a blanket, the cat, and a day full of Netflix comedies, “bottomless tea” (meaning both tea in unlimited quantities and the absence of pants - Waverly had cackled wildly at her double entendre), and macaroni and cheese from the pot. They had both agreed on how desperately they needed time to just be _normal_ together after the recent influx of new shocks and horrors to Purgatory that had kept them otherwise occupied. 

Waverly fought consciousness with all her might. _No no no no please I’m not ready, can I rest for once in my li-_  
A soft rustle to her right stopped the thought in its tracks. Nicole. Waverly cracked an eye open and looked over to see a mess of red hair and sprawled limbs beside her. A couple of butterflies took flight in her chest. She rarely got to see this beautiful creature on anything but full throttle, much less fast asleep. Waverly fell asleep first and woke up second, almost as predictably as clockwork. She wasn’t about to complain whenever she was roused by soft lips to the temple or gentle fingers running through her hair, but it was a sweet moment to observe Nicole in a way so few were allowed: vulnerable on all fronts, entirely peaceful, focusing her energy inward. Waverly couldn’t help but reach out to brush some stray locks from Nicole’s face. _How can someone be so beautiful in the morning?_  
With a long, slow sigh and a full-body stretch, Nicole turned her head, blinked away some of the haze, and gave a sleepy smile.  
“Hey,” she said dreamily, “what’re you lookin’ at?”  
Waverly’s joy started behind her eyes with a prickle of emotion and radiated down through her body, touching every muscle, organ, and bone she had. She still hadn’t fully gotten used to the way she felt when she was with Nicole. Valued. Respected. Heard. Loved. She leaned in close and pushed some more hair back from Nicole’s face.  
“Just making sure you weren’t planning on snoozing the day away when we have so many important things to accomplish.”  
Nicole flashed a grin. “You’re one to talk,” she chided, reminding Waverly of the mornings she when she would have to coax her out of bed with promises of tea and her plush slippers. “Wait, what important things? I thought we were gonna be hermits today.” She had approached this potential curveball like she did all others, with enthusiasm. “What’s the plan?”  
Waverly leaned over, put both hands on her girlfriend’s cheeks, and made very serious eye contact.  
“Breakfast.”

They had decided on the menu the evening before. The breakfast special was Nicole’s grandmother’s apple scones, the recipe she knew by heart, accompanied by homemade jam from Nicole’s neighbour, Carol, and a giant pot of Earl Grey. Waverly’s mouth was watering before the flour left the cupboard.

She sat on a stool at the counter across from where Nicole’s deft hands methodically diced the apples and tossed them into a pan to soften in butter and cinnamon. In a matter of minutes, she watched dry ingredients erupt into soft clouds in one bowl, wet ingredients splash into another, and cubed butter thrown down last.  
“This is what makes great scones, Waves, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Plus, it’s definitely good for you because of all the-,” she paused, “the calcium you’re getting from… the butter.”  
Waverly laughed. “Healthy _and_ delicious? Watch out, you might have a second career on your hands.”  
“And give up my utility belt?” Nicole looked at her in mock horror. “And my _hat_? Never.”  
“You could still have both of those things. Stetson-wearing pastry chef? Spice utility belt?” Waverly mimed brandishing spices from hip holsters. “I’d watch that all day.” She leaned over and propped herself up on the counter, palms down. “But I’d rather keep the shows private, so don’t quit your day job, okay?”  
Nicole grinned at her over the mound of loose dough and flicked some flour at her. “You got yourself a deal, partner.”

While their scones were rising and browning in the oven, laughter rose and spun in the living room. Waverly had accidentally knocked the large painting above the couch askew trying in vain to unfold their blanket of choice. She stood on the couch facing the wall and tried to re-centre the frame.  
“Is this straight?”  
“Waves, _I’m_ straighter than that thing.” That pulled a surprised, sputtering laugh from Waverly. Nicole wandered over, but didn’t offer help. By this point, Waverly had taken the entire thing off the wall in an effort to find the centre of the wire and place it on the hook. She felt Nicole’s amusement from afar.  
“Are you gonna help, or…?”  
“You look like you’ve got it under control,” Nicole teased, but noticed Waverly swaying on the uneven couch cushions and re-evaluated. She came up behind her and supported the bottom of the frame with one hand and wrapped the other one around Waverly’s torso to keep her steady. She whispered playfully into the space between her shoulder blades. “Better?”  
Waverly shivered at the vibrations against her tank top and leaned into the touch. “Much.”

They got the painting back up and level with the help of some squinting, power poses at various locations around the room, and finally an agreement that it was as good as it was going to get.  
“You could also be a carpenter if you wanted to keep the belt,” Waverly suggested, “because you’re not half bad. That thing _probably_ won’t fall down.”  
Nicole took exception to the soft dig at her eye for levels. “Excuse you, miss ‘I’ll-just-stick-a-nail-in-and-hope-it-holds’, at least I can find a stud.”  
“I’m looking at one right now, so it can’t be that hard,” Waverly said, winking. She had been waiting to make that joke for the last five minutes.  
Nicole pulled Waverly into her and looked down, laughing, and touched their foreheads together. “Did you seriously just make that joke?”  
Waverly crackled with joy once again. “Good, right?”  
“You’re hilarious.”  
Waverly rolled up onto her tiptoes and placed one hand on Nicole’s chest and the other around her waist between the bottom of her t-shirt and the waistband of her flannel pajama pants, finding some warm skin. She came up to meet Nicole’s lips. 

The beeping timer brought them back to reality. Nicole protested with a theatrical groan against Waverly’s lips, pulled away for a second, then came back for one last kiss, much to Waverly’s delight, then wandered over to crouch in front of the oven’s window. She looked back.  
“Breakfast is served! Now if you would kindly take your seat on the couch…” Nicole gestured to the blanket cocoon waiting for them, into which Waverly leapt with pleasure.

Each with a hot scone ( _delicious_ ), jam, and enough tea to float the Royal Navy, they settled in together and turned on the tv.

Almost immediately, Waverly knew something wrong. The local channel was broadcasting live from the outside of someone’s home in the west end. A child was crying in the arms of a female firefighter. Police tape cordoned off the entire property. Sheriff Nedley’s stout silhouette was visible through the open front door, as were Ministry of Health emergency personnel, clad in white coveralls and face masks.  
She dug her thumb into the remote’s volume control and looked over at Nicole, who had put down her tea. They both sat still, riveted to the report.

_…another unexplained illness here in Purgatory. Neighbours say they heard commotion across the street and found forty-four-year-old single dad, Mark Bauman, sitting on his front steps, disoriented and unable to remember his name. His motor skills are diminished, according to witnesses who saw him trying to zip the front of his coat prior to paramedics’ arrival. They have also reported seeing lights on in the house throughout the night over the past week - unusual for Bauman, who is normally early to sleep and early to rise, according to his mechanic’s apprentice, Steven, who just spoke with us. Since he was found, his daughter, ten-year-old May, has arrived home and continues to give statements to investigators about her father’s recent health and behaviour. Now, I don’t want to speculate, but Bauman’s symptoms appear to be very similar to those of two local high school students and Carlos Ruiz, who have all fallen ill over the past week. Whether the cases are related remains to be seen at this point, but I think it’s fair to say that bringing in the special investigators from the other cases is a no-brainer here…_

When coverage switched back to the studio, Waverly turned the volume back down to acceptable levels.  
“Another one,” Nicole breathed, “what the hell?” Waverly didn’t have an answer, but she had a feeling their day was going to be a lot less relaxing than they’d hoped.  
“You should check your phone. This is important.”  
Nicole nodded and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, babe.”  
Waverly had no time for apologies - this was shaping up to be Black Badge-level crazy, as long as shit stayed slightly weirder than what they had come to expect in Purgatory. _No worries there._

They both rose from the couch, shovelled some food into their mouths, and got moving. Nicole went to check her messages and get dressed. Waverly went into the kitchen, threw some dishes into the sink, and snagged her phone from under the cat, who sat on the windowsill by the table. Dolls and Wynonna needed to know what was going on here. Worst-case scenario, this was whoever targeted Dolls taking out the whole town to get to him. Waverly shook the thought from her head. _Nope. We don’t know anything yet. Stop that._  
No matter what it was, if this thing really did have the legs to catch Black Badge’s attention, Nicole would be in the middle of it with the task force. _She has to know the truth._

———

It only took half a ring for Wynonna to answer her cell. She didn’t mince words.  
“Hey, where are you? We’re picking you up.”  
Waverly considered lying for a hot second, then reconsidered. “Nicole’s,” she said.  
If Wynonna reacted, Waverly couldn’t tell. “Be ready in five minutes. Kiss your girlfriend goodbye before we get there, okay? Gross.”  
Her blood went cold. Was she kidding? Was this the same teasing she always dished out? Did she know everything? How did she find out?  
Before she could spit out a retort, Wynonna said, “See you soon,” and hung up. _They already know about the new case._

She followed up with a text to Dolls: 

_Waverly: We need to tell Nicole about why Black Badge came to Purgatory. The curse. The Seven. Everything._

_Dolls: I know. Tell her to meet us at the homestead tomorrow morning. We’ll talk._

Heart hammering in the kitchen, she hurried to Nicole’s bedroom to throw on some clothes.  
“Wow, they’re on it.”  
“They already know?” Nicole mumbled, hair elastic between her teeth while she finished weaving the end of her braid.  
“Wynonna said they’re gonna be here in five…and that I should kiss you before they get here.”  
Nicole’s eyebrows flew up. “What? Was she kidding?”  
Waverly shrugged as she pulled on a pair of dark green leggings. “Can’t tell. You wanna tell her together just to be sure?”  
They shared a quiet beat. Nicole, now done with her hair, came in close. “I’d love to.”

They made sure to kiss inside the front door when Dolls honked the horn from the road.  
“Be safe.”  
“You, too.”  
“See you at the station later?”  
“I’ll save you some of the good coffee.”


	2. Nunc Cognosco Ex Parte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly attempts to control a meeting in which she comes out. Nicole learns the truth about the Earp family. The team discusses the outbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! Enjoy :)

_7:10am_

Illuminated by the grey light of the morning’s cloudy dawn and the soft yellow glow thrown by a small lamp in the corner of the room, Waverly nursed her coffee at the kitchen table across from Dolls, who had arrived moments earlier. Neither spoke. 

She was uncharacteristically fidgety this morning. The slightest flush of red on her cheeks reflected how quickly her heart was pounding under her sweater; thinking about the meeting they were about to have made her stomach churn. 

Wynonna and Dolls were under the impression that they were there to divulge the Earp family curse and the nature of their work with Black Badge to Nicole. They had both agreed that the more intel was available for her to work with, the better a job she could do, and the safer they would all be. Waverly had laboured over telling Nicole about the Revenants weeks ago, but despite her desire to do so, it was still a risky move without clearance from Dolls. A part of her was still terrified that Nicole would think they were all out of their minds and bolt. Waverly had tried to come to terms with that possibility long ago, but the further their relationship progressed, the more urgently she wanted to come clean and try to move ahead together. 

In the quiet, intimate moments with Nicole, when Waverly felt the safest, she had fantasized about telling her everything she knew. The way she had thrown herself into research for Wynonna and Black Badge warranted some sort of explanation, she thought, and she had no intention of harbouring secrets. She had resolved to let Nicole into her life as fully as she possibly could. Nicole deserved the full story from the people who could tell it best. 

Dolls had implored Waverly not to tip Nicole off about the specifics before she got there.  
“Earp, this stays close to the vest,” he had warned her, gesturing around to their exclusive group. “Are you hearing me? Get her there, no questions asked.” As happy as she was to hear him call her Earp, she read him loud and clear. No paper trail. Plausible deniability for Nicole if she ever needed it.

In keeping with Dolls’ request and their promise to each other, Waverly had deftly suggested Nicole come over before work to tell Wynonna about their relationship.  
“You start at nine on Wednesday, right?” she’d asked on Monday night from her favourite position, wrapped in Nicole’s embrace in bed with her head cradled at the intersection of shoulder, neck, and chest.  
“Mmhmm,” Nicole had replied. “Why don’t I come by around 7:30, I’ll bring a peace offering, and we can break her in gently. Sound good?”  
“Sounds perfect.”  
_Two birds, one stone? More like two cocked guns without safeties. In the dark. Aimed at each other._

Waverly had no qualms about misleading Wynonna and Dolls - they would only be served a side of drama with the main dish of demons - but she hated that she had to lie to Nicole. Waverly worried incessantly for three days about Nicole having no warning for a conversation that would change her life in such an unprecedented way. Visions of anger, disbelief, and disappointment percolated through every iteration of the conversation she could imagine. _That’s how it would go if it were me. _And after everything they had been through to just get to this point and everything she and Nicole had done to build trust in one another, she carried the burden of deception squarely on her shoulders.__

Waverly had dreamt about sitting down together with Nicole, hand in hand across from Wynonna, letting her in on their shared secret. Last night under cover of darkness she had grieved the loss of that moment in her life with a few gentle sobs.

She had learned early and often that her expectations for monumental life events would almost certainly not be met. Her university graduation was consisted of receiving a large envelope in the mail with her degree enclosed - no cap, no gown, and no fanfare. Gus had cooked a special dinner in her honour, for which she was grateful, but her desire to cross the stage in front of her friends and family remained unfulfilled. Reunions with both Wynonna and Willa were stained with the Earps’ penchant for attracting trouble. All Waverly hoped for was a moment of peace to introduce Nicole to her family as her girlfriend, not just Officer Haught, and then re-introduce them to who she had become while they were putting demons in the ground all winter. 

Her mind flicked to Willa, sleeping upstairs. _Close to the vest._ A mild pang of guilt reached her throat, but she couldn’t help but feel relieved that the eldest Earp wouldn’t be present. She silently reprimanded herself for being petty and childish, but Willa hadn’t shown her much sisterly love as a child, nor was she showing much now. The truth was that Waverly had never included Willa in any of her future plans because she thought she was dead; now she excluded her because she didn’t think it was any of her damn business. 

_7:21am_

Waverly tracked Wynonna’s approach with every slow thud of her socked feet down the stairs, through the hall, and into the kitchen. She appeared around the corner with bleary eyes and a pout.  
“Coffee,” was all she said. Waverly gestured to the pot, now half-empty. Wynonna nodded and plodded over to fill the biggest mug they had.  
“Big day ahead of us, Earp,” Dolls informed her, “you better eat something with that.”  
Wynonna rolled her eyes at him as she poured. “Oh yeah? You cooking?”  
“Nah.”  
Maintaining eye contact with him, she put the pot down and flung opened the fridge with a flourish.  
Waverly considered them both for a moment. Wynonna, face-first in the fruit drawer, and Dolls, sighing with a mild scowl. _Jesus, tension much?_ Whatever their thing was, it wasn’t helping her keep her cool. 

Wynonna spoke around a mouthful of apple. “You remembered to actually invite her, right? ‘Cause the rest of us are already in on the joke.” Waverly closed her eyes and set her jaw. She knew she was about to face the music. “And it’s the buttcrack of dawn, so if I got up for no reason, I swear on my _big-ass gun_ —”  
“Would you please unclench for, like, _one_ second? She’s coming.” Waverly drummed on her knees under the kitchen table and tried to take her own advice. Sparring with Wynonna wasn’t going to make this any easier. Everyone’s tension was beginning to show. The knot of worry she had wrestled with all night was growing tighter by the minute.  
“This apple is shit, by the way. How long has it been in there?” Wynonna said to no one, making a face. 

A phone buzzed on the table, drawing curious glances from all three of them.  
“Mine,” said Waverly. She swiped to show the message from Nicole. 

_**Nicole:** On my way! How’s the caffeine situation? I can stop for reinforcements if you want_  
A smile breezed across her face. Of course Nicole was worrying about them.  
_**Waverly:** Wyn’s grumpy as hell but I think we’re set. See you soon :)_

“Ew, what even is this?” Wynonna squinted at a nondescript jar. Her focus shifted to Waverly’s phone conversation. “What are you smiling about?” Only Wynonna’s head was visible from behind the refrigerator door as she emerged to appraise her sister. “I don’t know what kind of games you’re playing on that thing, but if I smiled at my phone as often as you, people would think I was headed back to crazytown.” She shrugged with defiant nonchalance and waved an arm in a way that Waverly interpreted to be suggestive of…something, but chose not to engage.  
“It’s nothing. She’s on her way.” 

_7:25am_

Without prompting, Waverly threw a question out to the group.  
“Shouldn’t we have a plan or something? You know, go over the major plot points beforehand? I just don’t want to shock her into another dimension before we have a chance to explain ourselves.” Two trademark looks materialised in front of her. Dolls glanced over, deadpan, as if to dismiss her outright. Wynonna made a face as though she smelled something mildly unpleasant. Her suggestion had clearly fallen on deaf ears. _Didn’t get the planning gene._  
“Okay, cool, no plan. That works, too." 

She let the morning quiet seep back into the room. A heel dragged across the floor. Sips of coffee. A hand ran over rough cheek stubble. Yawns and sighs at regular intervals. 

“She’s a good cop.” Dolls leaned his chair back and spoke to the maple beams crossing the ceiling. “She’ll take what we give her and run with it.”  
Hearing Dolls give Nicole such high praise energised Waverly. She imagined an alternate universe where she could spill the beans herself. _Babe? Yeah, we have demons. Yup, the hellfire kind. But Dolls said you’re good at your job, so not a bad day overall, right?_  
Waverly saw Dolls return his chair to its four legs and lean over the table in her direction.  
“Don’t worry. It’s gonna be a lot to take in, but she’ll have all of us for support,” he said gently. “Just like you have us, too.”  
A rush of gratitude washed over Waverly. Dolls had turned into her surrogate brother, and lately had made her feel like she was truly in the club. _Team Earp._

She could feel Wynonna’s restlessness - Waverly looked over to find her checking the time on her phone and tapping her empty wrist where a watch would be. 

_7:28am_

Three sets of ears perked up at the sound of tires crunching over gravel and snow outside. The engine cut and a door closed. Boots on the front steps. A musical knock. 

Two parts of Waverly’s life, nearly distinct from each other, were now poised to collide. _Here we go._

The knob turned and Nicole poked her head in and found three faces peering back at her, each looking their own brand of stressed.  
“Morning everyone! Now don’t all jump up at once,” she said happily, prying off her boots and coming through to the kitchen with a hand behind her back, “because I brought muffins.” A white box fell heavily onto the oak tabletop.  
Wynonna looked down at it, then up at Nicole with the utmost serious expression. She pursed her lips.  
“I think I love you.”  
“Get in line,” Nicole said with an easy laugh. Waverly, who had begun to reach for the box immediately, froze and glanced up nervously.  
“What?” she said, uncertain of what to make of Nicole’s statement.  
“What,” Nicole said, apparently unaware of the implication. She looked at Wynonna. “You better get in there before they’re gone.”  
They all leaned in to pick a muffin from the box, though not before Wynonna pulled the entire thing toward her and painstakingly made her selection. A chorus of jeers rained down upon her until she returned the treats to shared territory. 

Waverly decided to take charge of the meeting immediately. If the morning was going to turn into a carefully-orchestrated dance between two unsuspecting partners, she wanted to be the choreographer. 

Before she could start, Dolls began speaking in his all-business voice.  
“Thanks for coming, Nicole, I know it was short notice—“  
Waverly held up her right hand to Dolls, as if directing traffic, and looked briefly over at Nicole, then settled her gaze between her sister and Dolls.  
“Nope, stop," she snapped at Dolls. "Before we jump in, there’s something Nicole and I wanted to discuss w—“  
Nicole cut her off.  
“Wait, jump into what, Wave? What’s he—” she turned to address Dolls directly. “What are you talking about, ‘thanks for coming’?” Nicole didn’t fool easily. Waverly knew it was time to come clean. 

_Shit, that unraveled quickly. Mental note: not a great plan to lie to everyone you know when they all work in law enforcement. Literal detectives._

Waverly stood and met Nicole’s look of concern with a reassuring smile and a squeeze on her shoulder. 

“Before you say anything else,” she told the room, “this was entirely my own doing. I needed all of you to be in this room to have this conversation.” She corrected herself. “Two conversations, actually. Nicole, we, the three of us, have some stuff to tell you. About work.” Nicole furrowed her brow a little. She pressed on. “And there’s something else you both need to know,” she said to Wynonna and Dolls, “about us.” 

More looks of confusion.  
“What the hell, Waves, out with it already,” said Wynonna. 

_This is so not how I imagined doing this._

Waverly took a deep breath. It was happening. It was real. Somehow she had met this brilliant, generous, immensely kind, courageous, and mind-alteringly gorgeous police officer in a town where, frankly, those hadn’t existed until Nicole arrived. She felt liberated from a few of the shackles that bound her to her old life and her old self. No more would she sell herself short on her value. It was Waverly who had decoded Uncle Curtis’ message to find the skull and it was Waverly who had sifted through piles on piles of records to find any whisper of information on the Earp curse. She did an entire degree to help their cause and _it worked_. No more would she just be the youngest sister because she knew her value extended far beyond her looks and her service for others. She was a whole person, and Nicole saw every corner of her. This sense of self had been fighting to get out for years. It took almost getting hanged, nearly getting shot, and actually getting shot, among other things, for her to let it out. She didn’t need protection; Waverly Earp could take on anything thrown her way. She had a cop girlfriend, a shotgun, and impeccable smarts - street and book. She might as well be invincible. 

In this case, coming out was being thrown her way and there she was, ready to meet it. Sort of. 

“Ready?” she said to Nicole with a surge of nervous energy. A reassuring nod and two dimples cradling a smile flash back at her. 

“Um, okay so, I - we - have something to share with - to tell you,” she started. The sight and sound of Wynonna and Dolls chewing their muffins in tandem punctuated the all-encompassing awkwardness Waverly was feeling. They looked on expectantly from across the table. _Get your shit together._

“Nicole and I are dating.” 

Dolls’ expression didn’t change. Wynonna looked at them, puzzled, with her mouth slightly open as though she was trying to read very small print. 

“You’re dating,” said Wynonna.  
“Yeah.”  
“Each other.”  
“Yep.”  
“You’re in a relationship.” She started gesticulating, pointing to Waverly, then to Nicole, and back to Waverly again, then in a circular motion around them. “Together.”  
“Yes.”  
“The two of you.”  
“Wynonna, if you’re—”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wynonna cut her off, looking dumbfounded.  
Her comment caught Waverly off guard.  
“I’m telling you now,” she spit back. The pointedness of her response settled in and she backtracked. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “you were busy and I was…” her voice trailed off. “Scared. I was scared. I know I shouldn’t have been, because it’s you, but this was - this _is_ \- huge for me.” Her smile shone down onto the top of Nicole’s head in front of her. “For us.” 

Nicole turned in her chair to look up at Waverly with that same adoring expression she had on her face the first time Waverly informed her that she was scared. 

“How long have you known you were…how long have you been…” Wynonna’s sentence faded away. Her face betrayed some hurt at the secret.  
“Officially, we’ve been together just over a month, right babe?” Waverly looked to Nicole for confirmation.  
“Sounds about right,” she mused, her eyes sparkling. In that moment, Waverly forgot the feelings of isolation, disappointment, and disgust that had plagued her relationship over the last few years. Champ’s ignorance and misogyny weren’t her problem anymore. She had left behind her glorified babysitting gig for a real partnership, and for once she was receiving the love and support she so willingly gave. 

“Officially?” Wynonna said. “So stuff has been going on between you for a while?” Waverly and Nicole exchanged twin blushes.  
She looked at Dolls. “Did you know about this?”  
“I know everything.”  
“Well shit, okay, let a girl know next time so she can avoid looking like a complete tool.”  
“It’s fine, we weren’t really telling anyone for a while,” Waverly said to the room. Her reassurances were falling on deaf ears, however, because Wynonna was stuck on her own behaviour.  
“Oh god, I was scoping out rebounds for you,” she agonised. “The new firefighter recruit, whatshisface.” Nicole crinkled her nose at the suggestion. “Pete, you remember Pete? He just got a job. And Todd from juvie is _really_ cute now.” She slowed. Gears were turning in her head.  
Her eyes snapped to Waverly. “Wait, were you trying to come out to me the day you got shot?”  
Waverly chose her words carefully.  
“Not exactly, that was more of a reconnaissance mission than anything.”  
“What, you wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be mad that you’re gay?”  
“Not mad, just…you gotta check the temperature before you drink the coffee, you know? And I’m not gay, Wynonna.”  
“Okay, now you’re just dicking me around. Nice. Good one.”  
“No I’m not. I’m bisexual. And that’s not code for ‘figuring it out,’ if you’re wondering.”  
“I never said—”  
“You were bound to throw it in my face at some point so I thought I’d nip that one right in the—” 

“I don’t need to be here for this,” said Dolls, rising from his chair.  
“You stay,” Waverly instructed him. “Wynonna, I know this is a lot. All I need to know is if you’re on board. I just want your support.” She smoothed Nicole’s collar down under the end of her braid. 

Wynonna had a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Of course I support you, Waves. I just want you to be happy. Love whoever you want, baby girl.”  
“I am,” said Waverly.  
“You what?” Nicole said quietly, facing her.  
Waverly stopped. “I am,” she said, “loving whoever I want.” 

She felt the room shrink in the time it took the words leaving her mouth to reach Nicole. A look of amazement bloomed in the wake of her understanding the ramifications of Waverly’s words.  
“I am, too.” Nicole’s words landed softly all around her. 

Heat rose between them. Waverly didn’t know how much time passed, but she had been sucked into the deep vortex of Nicole’s gaze where time didn’t much exist. Her heart hammered, as it so often did at their electricity. _Did we just say we loved each other? For the first time? In front of Dolls and my sister?_

Wynonna’s voice cut through to their private world.  
“Hi, um, this is great, but we’re still here, lots of _pressing matters_ to discuss.” She turned her focus to Nicole. “Waverly didn’t threaten or coerce you in any way, did she? I know she talks a big game.”  
Nicole gave an easy laugh and Waverly beamed at how comfortably she fit into the Earp dynamic. It was a relief not to worry about Nicole holding her own against their antics. The Nicole Haught wit stood up just fine.  
“She routinely threatens to use my own handcuffs against me, but otherwise I’m here of my own volition.”  
Waverly pressed both of her palms to her face. _Oh my god._

“Now I’m really gonna go,” said Dolls. Once again, his attempt to escape was foiled by an Earp. Wynonna grabbed a handful of sweater and pulled him back down into his seat.  
“Wow, gross,” said Wynonna. “I’ll accept it. Welcome to Team Earp, I guess.” 

Waverly saw the life return to Wynonna’s face, and maybe it was a product of caffeine or spiking blood sugar, but she appeared to be on board with it all.  
_She almost looks…pleased. This is weird._

“Okay, good talk. Moving on—” Waverly started, only to be cut off by Nicole who was still trying to figure out what she was missing. 

“Why are you here at all?” she said to Dolls. “No offence, but our relationship status doesn’t exactly scream Black Badge.” Dolls gave a small sigh and addressed Waverly flatly.  
“Can I talk now?”  
Waverly grimaced at the way she had spoken to him earlier.  
“All yours.” She took her seat beside Nicole and hung her head ever so slightly at the impending revelation. 

“I’m here because there’s some privileged information you need to hear. Black Badge-worthy, believe it or not. We couldn’t risk having a record of this meeting ever taking place, that’s why you had to be…surprised.”  
“Surprised? It was a bit of an ambush if you ask me.” Nicole said, matter-of-factly. “But lay it on me. What have you got?”  
Once again, Waverly was impressed by the level of composure Nicole showed under pressure. 

“You’ve been working some cases that exhibit some unusual characteristics,” said Dolls.  
“Yeah, and they piled up faster than I could clear them,” Nicole replied with a touch of bitterness in her voice.  
“There's a reason that you couldn’t close them yourself. You didn’t have all the information. Officially, Black Badge has been partnered with Purgatory and the Ghost River Triangle sheriff’s departments on a contract basis since nineteen—”  
“Dolls, for chrissake, if you’re gonna do it, do it right,” Wynonna interjected. She turned to face Nicole, whose left hand was interlaced with Waverly’s under the table. 

“Haught, this family has been messing with police investigations for generations.” She took a deep breath and ramped up for the big reveal. “We’re cursed.”  
Nicole broke into a chuckle. “You’re cursed. What, did a witch cast a spell on your grandma or something?”  
“Wow, she’s not bad for a rookie,” Wynonna said to herself. “You’re not too far from the truth, actually. But it's demons. Seventy-seven of them, stuck in the Ghost River Triangle, waiting for me to send ‘em back to hell.” She pointed to Peacemaker, laying in its holster on the counter. “With that.”  
Nicole’s amusement had quickly fallen away.  
“Seriously?”  
“Yep.”  
Nicole scanned the room for signs of levity. There were none. Waverly offered her a solemn nod of agreement.  
“How?” was all she could muster. 

Wynonna began with the Earp family.  
“Every generation after our great-great grandfather, Wyatt, Revenants - the demons - resurrect when the eldest Earp kid turns twenty-seven. That’s the heir. It’s the heir’s job to put them all back down with Wyatt’s gun. Regular guns can do some damage, but Peacemaker’s the only one that does the trick for real. And only the heir can shoot it.”  
“So Willa’s the heir in your generation?” Nicole asked, to which Waverly and Wynonna started to rebut.  
“Well—”  
“Technically—”  
Waverly gave in and allowed Wynonna to continue.  
“She was supposed to be the heir. Daddy groomed her to be, anyway, but since we thought she was dead for sixteen years, I kind of...assumed the role.”  
“And the gun works for you.”  
“Yeah. I don’t really have an answer for that one.”  
“Okay, so you’re…sending them back to hell…by shooting them. What happens when you get them all? Seventy-seven, right?”  
Waverly jumped in with her encyclopedic knowledge of everything Earp Curse.  
“The idea is that once an heir kills all seventy-seven revenants, the curse is broken. But that’s never happened. They’re all still stuck in the Ghost River Triangle for eternity, as far as we can tell, waiting to bring hell to the next heir.” 

“Holy shit,” breathed Nicole. Some colour had drained from her face. Waverly noticed she had slumped ever so slightly in her chair. “What happens when you shoot one? Where does it actually _go_?”  
“This might clear some stuff up for you, case-wise.” said Dolls.  
“They catch fire and get sucked into a flaming hell portal,” said Wynonna.  
Nicole looked at them, unbelieving.  
“A flaming portal,” she repeated. “It’s no wonder I can’t close any cases.” 

The group brought Nicole up to speed over the next half hour with a thorough retrospective on all Revenant-related hijinks in the Earp family over the last hundred and thirty years or so. Shootouts, witches, guns, Doc Holliday down a well then back up a well, Ward, and Waverly's skull inheritance, among other highlights. Nicole’s expressions fluctuated between bewilderment, amusement, and horror as each detail revealed itself as part of the larger story. 

“Black Badge works with or around local sheriff’s departments in Ghost River County that don’t have the skills to deal with Revenant activity,” Dolls explained.  
Wynonna chimed in, “But most the time we end up running interference between the people who know and the people who don’t.”  
“So Nedley knows, then?” Nicole asked. Dolls raised his eyebrows.  
“Yeah, he knows. How do you know he knows?” he asked.  
“You guys and Nedley have been interfering with me since I started here. That’s why he rejected my report from the day of our abduction, isn't it,” she said, looking at Wynonna. “I felt like something was off, like _supernatural_ off, after it happened so I included it in my statement. I guess it was too close to the truth because he trashed it.” Nicole looked frustrated. “Is this why he assigned me to the task force? To keep me away from everything?”  
“Nah, he needs his best eyes on those cases. He put you there so you could do your work,” said Dolls. “And I think you’re gonna want to stick with it.”  
“With the illness?” she asked. “Why, what do you know?” 

Dolls looked more sombre than usual. “Look, I don’t know what this is, it’s just a gut feeling. It’s too perfect to be some bug or a localised case of psychosis. With the exception of the first two victims, none of them even crossed paths, much less knew each other. It’s debilitating but non-lethal. All the victims have similar personality traits and highly valuable skills. The pathogen itself is so far untraceable and has no biological markers.”  
Waverly felt Nicole sigh beside her. Wynonna was meticulously cleaning her fingernails and avoiding eye contact. Dolls dropped his voice and finished with conviction.  
“Everything about it screams coverup,” he said with a flicker of worry. 

In the three days between Waverly and Nicole’s failed day off and the present, two more people had fallen victim to what the Ministry of Health had dubbed Orior Pestis - the waking plague. There had been seven known cases in Purgatory over two weeks, all of which resulted in the swift and near complete destruction of the patients’ psychological and sensorimotor skills. Round the clock testing and observation was underway and hadn’t yielded any information at all about possible treatments, the cause, or the method of transmission. Ministry reports on the new cases, just like the initial ones, showed that doctors had yet to pinpoint the source of the symptoms. It wasn’t a bacteria, nor a virus, nor a parasite, nor any known earthly pathogen. 

“Have you found any similar outbreaks? Has the Ministry seen something like this before?” asked Dolls of Nicole. She shook her head.  
“One of a kind, as far as we can tell. I’m no expert, obviously, but comparing raw data from this incident to others, it’s in a class all by itself. The kinds of symptoms we’re seeing are strange because they’re not showing much sign of mutation from person to person. Granted, it’s a small sample size, but even so, the consistency with which Orior Pestis progresses in each patient is almost unprecedented. No records I’ve found show anything even remotely comparable.” 

Waverly leaned into Nicole and spoke to her facing away from Dolls and Wynonna.  
“Not to be insensitive,” she said quietly, “but it is so sexy when you talk like that.”  
Nicole’s face flushed red. She continued with urgency. 

“At this point, it might run rampant through town, who knows, but the pattern so far leads me to believe that that won’t happen. You’re right, Dolls,” she said, “this thing sort of has a type. And not to oversell us, but we all fit it.” 

Wynonna was frozen in place with a peculiar look on her face, as though she was trying to decipher some invisible code in the cup of coffee in front of her.  
“Why does this feel like a bad dream I’ve already had?” she said numbly. Concern crested over Waverly’s face. She was so tired, they all were.  
“Did you ever read One Hundred Years of Solitude?” Waverly asked.  
“Yeah I loved that b—”  
Wynonna turned to face her sister with disbelief; she had put the pieces together. The insomnia and productive mania. Cognitive impairment. Physiological decline. Complete loss of memory, identity, and social conventions. _The cat eyes, glowing orange._  
It didn’t take a literary scholar to realise that the symptoms in the Purgatory cases were eerily similar to those of the disease in the book.  
For Waverly, the initial infections had sparked some worry in her, but she had pushed her suspicions aside and filed them under ‘irrational’. Magical Realism was a thing. It was fiction. But with every passing day, the patients registered no improvement and there was very little intel emerging about the disease’s origins. _What sort of video game science fiction bullshit is this?_  
Waverly was starting to feel like she was floating in a fever dream, but then again, she was well aware that Purgatory was not known for its adherence to rationality. She had begrudgingly brought the possibility of a fictional disease infiltrating their physical world into the realm of possibility. She sighed. _What the shit._

Without a trace of sarcasm or ridicule, Wynonna asked the question that Waverly did not want to answer. 

“Are you actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? A disease from a book.” The room seemed to vibrate in the vacuum between question and answer. Nicole gently squeezed Waverly’s right thigh under the table; her eyes were wide and flicked from Wynonna to Waverly. Dolls sat slouched in his chair. He rested his head in one hand at the temple and didn’t make a move to speak. Waverly didn’t mince words.  
“The Plague of Insomnia. Yeah,” she said, quietly. “I think it’s real.” 


End file.
